


Leaves and Laughter

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Autumn, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman decides maybe he should check and see how Batman is treating his new ward.  It's not <i>spying</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaves and Laughter

The sky above Gotham was a perfectly clear blue, shining with a purity that some would say belied the corruption beneath it. Soaring through its crystalline clarity, Superman bypassed the looming granite towers of the city and made his way to the lush mansion-studded outskirts, where old stone buildings stood, lapped in blazing fall foliage.

Soon he was above Wayne Manor and looking down, careful to remain at a safe height. He wasn't here for a social call, after all, he was here to--

Well, to check on something. _Spy_ was such an ugly word, as he had told Wonder Woman when she used it during their recent conversation.

"It's not that I don't trust him," he had bristled a little. "It's just...well, does he seem like he'd be good with kids? I just want to make sure the boy is happy, that's all."

Banishing her scowl from his mind, he looked down, focusing his telescopic vision carefully so the Manor grounds sprang into sudden, sharp relief. Scanning around, he quickly located the child--Richard Grayson, he reminded himself--holding a rake and whacking at fallen leaves on the ground with perhaps more vigor than accuracy. The boy's cheeks were flushed rosy in the cool air, and he was wearing a bright red jacket with a yellow muffler and green mittens: colors that matched the costume he wore on the streets at Batman's side, Superman recalled.

"I don't see why we have to do this," the boy said, swiping at another patch of leaves. "Couldn't you just hire someone? It's not like you can't afford it."

"It's too risky," said a deeper voice, and Clark pulled back his vision enough to take in the sight of Bruce Wayne in a heavy black sweater and incongruously bright yellow earmuffs, wielding his own rake. "Too many people poking around on the grounds. So it's either us or Alfred. Besides, it's good exercise. Builds upper body strength."

Dick grimaced but went after the leaves in dogged silence for a moment, adding them to one of the many piles scattered around the yard. He cast a quick, assessing look at Bruce.

"No jumping in the pile," Bruce said sternly, and Dick heaved an aggrieved sigh. Bruce turned his back on the boy, and Clark saw a mischievous gleam enter Dick's eye. He walked a fair distance from the heap of leaves and worked a little more, but then quietly put down his rake, his gaze calculating the distance between him and the pile.

As he started to run toward the gathered leaves, Clark could have sworn that for just a moment he caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile on Bruce's face.

The boy did two somersaults and a handspring, then catapulted himself headlong into the leaves, sending cascades of flame-colored foliage everywhere. Bruce turned to glare at the sight and had his mouth open to say something when Dick yelped and scrambled to his feet.

"Slug!" he howled, shaking his hand violently. "Ugh, yuck, there are _slugs_ in here! Get off of me!"

He capered and yelled, and as he did Bruce Wayne started to laugh.

Chuckles morphed to chortles and chortles escalated into a deep belly laugh that shook his athletic frame until he was leaning on the rake for support as if he could hardly stand, watching Dick (who was laughing by now as well) shaking off the clinging pests. Clark realized his mouth was hanging open as he watched the grim defender of Gotham, whom Clark had never seen so much as crack a smile, caught in the grip of helpless joyful laughter.

Dick's giggles continued for a while after Bruce had regained his control. When the boy finally wiped his streaming eyes and sighed, Bruce was merely smiling once more. Dick grabbed the rake and saluted Bruce with it. "Okay, I know, back to--"

"--That's all right," said Bruce. "I'll get this last batch."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that Alfred has some hot mulled cider and fresh gingersnaps inside, and you probably should get them while they're hot."

Dick's eyes lit up and he scampered indoors; Clark heard the door slam behind him as Bruce started to rake up the scattered leaves with careful, methodical efficiency. He was humming under his breath, a slight chuckle still dancing somewhere within the song. "He's a good kid," Clark heard him murmur softly. "A good tough sweet kid, I think everyone in the League will love him once they meet him." A few more passes of the rake, a gentle rhythmic scratching. "And if anyone were to _want_ to meet him," Bruce added in the same low voice, "I'm sure Alfred has enough cider and gingersnaps to accommodate an extra guest, even one with a Kansas-farmboy level appetite."

High in the air above the Manor, Clark blinked at the back of Bruce's head for a moment. Then he smiled and shook his head ruefully.

 **: : :**

As the tiny figure vanished from the sky, Bruce Wayne kept raking up the last of the leaves with neat, quick strokes: he calculated he'd have enough time to complete the chore before their guest arrived.

He wasn't aware, and would have denied vehemently, that his face seemed to mirror the clear and hopeful light of the brilliant autumn sky above him.


End file.
